elizabethlevett

“And now we go live…”

On the air. A sign in red neon over the control booth, a correspondent poised with a script. Maybe a sound tech or even a live orchestra on hand in the studio. And back at home, the whole family is pictured taking their positions around the revered wooden console, staring and listening, before they could even imagine the presence of a visual image on a screen.

And a moment of silence was called “dead air.”

Moments of gravity or levity were experienced in communion, right then and there.

Fred Allen, Jack Benny, The Shadow, and so many others brought Vaudeville-style stage entertainment or comic book heroes to life in front of a small studio audience for their listeners. Great musicians were right there, live on the show. George and Gracie had Artie Shaw’s band. Jascha Heifetz performed on Jack Benny. Artists we can’t imagine hearing now – would drop in for a song. Ella Fitzgerald, The Ink Spots, not to mention accomplished musicians from the concert stages. There were serious dramas with big stars – The Count of Monte Cristo, Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre, A Farewell to Arms, Arrowsmith, and of course there were hard-boiled detectives, soap operas, science fiction and mystery shows, musical variety shows, and of course, the news.

Edward R Murrow reported live from London during the Blitz. Americans listened as reporters described the destruction of the Hindenburg while it was happening. (“Oh, the humanity!”) Churchill spoke over the airwaves, so did Roosevelt, and many years later a young Martin Luther King, jr.’s most famous speeches were carried “over the air.” Think of it. No faces, no make-up, no side bar running snarky tweets. There were preachers and hoaxsters, just like today. There was the suspension of disbelief, shared faith in the gravity of live, on-air broadcasts and all that was implied by the urgent voice, supporting cast, and brilliant sound effects. Most famously the medium was used to cast a spell in celebration of Halloween, 1938. Orson Welles and some of his Mercury Players reported on the invasion of Martians and scared the bejeezus out of a gullible public.

I remember the DJ’s when I was in high school. That was the beginning of pre-recorded, syndicated broadcasts like Casey Kasem’s American Top 40. You had to listen every week or risk missing out! We all listened. But still we were missing out – we weren’t yet aware of the finer fruit to be had on the f.m. side of the dial from a wide range of live DJ’s. The best ones were from smaller stations, college radio! It was the thrill of a lifetime in the early 90’s to be invited with my band into the studios of KUSF by the Germ himself. Unbelievable. He interviewed us and had us perform some songs. Right then and there.

Years later we are still drawn to the small, live radio operations. KPOO has their little office right over on Divisadero, at least until they can’t make the rent any more. But their specialty DJs are still our favorites – DJ Marilyn with her Monday morning show (“because the power of the blues compels me,”) and Gramophoney Baloney, playing all kinds of music from all over the world, recorded before 1950. A Turkish orchestra might be followed by Debussy who in turn will lead into a Calypso, a tango, or a West African choral group. Unexpected gems, the undiscovered treasures and the ad libs are food for the soul.

So raise your glass to the control booth. Here’s to live radio. (And send in a pledge once in awhile.) May it stay on the air for a long, long time.

“Good night and good luck.”